


Lover's Knot

by VoiDreamer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoiDreamer/pseuds/VoiDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of string coiled into a knot, left side for her, right side for him. A connection that not even destiny can destroy. Lover's Knot, a reminder that two hearts can be bound together despite everything. Lavellan/Solas (Two-shot).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Left Side: Lavellan

**Author's Note:**

> AN: A little something I put together after falling in love with the Solas/Lavellan pairing.
> 
> Musical Suggestion: Thedas Love Theme (by Trevor Morris)
> 
> Please note that this is a post-game fic and thus DOES have spoilers.
> 
> Disclaimer: As per usual - I do not own DA:I or the characters, nor am I making any money off of them.
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> Voi

She thinks of him often, dreams of him every night, though she says nothing to anyone of the nightmares.

The months of fighting mages, templars, venatori and demons have all taken their toll, and even now she is plagued with visions of that terrible future soaked in blood and red lyrium. Of Solas dying, locked away in that prison while the poison of that unnatural stone sickened him.

But mostly she thinks of him as he was the last time she saw him. Wonders silently at where he might be and when her heart might stop its piteous weeping in her chest.

She is not sure she has the strength to carry both the mantle of Inquisitor as well as this leaden weight that has settled between her lungs. Her every breath is a trial, and for all of her silence her throat remains raw, aching with the force of some soundless scream that started the moment he disappeared.

Cole knows, or at least, he very likely senses the direction of her thoughts. That he keeps silent says as much about their close relationship as it does the fragility of her own state.

Her loss has been one borne with dignity, with the iron determination responsible for saving Thedas. But even now she can feel the exhaustion in her limbs, the heaviness on her shoulders, a weariness no amount of duty can overcome. If this continues for much longer it will be more than just her heart that suffers, and she refuses to let the Inquisition down.

Something must be done. But she cannot imagine what that might be.

Days filled with leading, fighting, serving the people of Thedas, she remains a steadfast servant to the Inquisition. But the slipping has already started, and more than once has Dorian come to her with that look in his eye that let's her know he suspects something.

The business of ruling is also more solitary that one might expect, and though the days spent traveling to familiar places are easy to ignore, the true test comes whenever she returns to Skyhold.

She has all but abandoned her bedroom, and she avoids the room of murals at all costs. It is not just the sight of those paintings but everything about it that threatens to undo her, and she cannot, will not, go there and stand in the shadow of where he should be.

But there is one thing she cannot avoid no matter how hard she tries. A burden and a gift. The cloak she has used to hide her looking glass does nothing to help, its presence just as damning as the reflection she knows would look back at her if she but raised its corner.

A face without vallaslin.

His last gift to her.

 _"Bare faced and embarrassed",_ Cole had said when he had confronted Solas, _"She thinks it is her fault and she does not understand."_

It had been nearly a month and she could not say she was any closer to understanding what had driven him away. But somehow, someway, she had to find a way to weather this storm that raged, had to find a way to free herself from the stifling hurt.

_Ar lasa mala revas._

His words whisper to her across time, slip from the darkness of the evening to wrap around her.

You are free.

But no matter what markings he removed, or how far away he traveled, freedom was not something he could grant her with his disappearance.

Her heart was bound by something far stronger than that.

Silken thread tied by tender glances and the timbre of his voice.

By the brush of his lips and fingers.

Lover's Knot.

Left behind but ever binding.


	2. Right Side: Solas

He wakes up from the dream alone.

 

_Alone._

 

When had that become something worth noting? It had never mattered before, but now...

 

_Alone._

 

The Fade had always been his preference, had been a place where he had flourished, learning all he could and exploring everything there was to see. The spirits had been his friends, his mentors, and he had wanted for nothing in this respect. Those he had met outside the Fade had proven pale by comparison, disappointing even, the Dalish most of all.

 

_But then she..._

 

Solas cuts the thought off before it can fully form, rises from his place of rest and struggles to ignore the cloying ache of his throat.

 

Tries to ignore the greater dissatisfaction in waking.

Bitterness, perhaps? But no, that is not the truth at all.

 

Rather it is _agony_.

 

A sense of loss sharp and cutting, it is but rage turned toward himself, for his own choices. Because there is no denying the knowledge that had he allowed it, there would have been someone to greet him upon waking.

 

Someone whose very heart beat so close to his own that even now if feels as if they are connected, tied together, by some indescribable bond.

 

_Ma Vhenan._

 

He says the words like an oath, a prayer, a whispered dream lost to the ages.

 

_My Heart._

 

It feels as if it is missing now, his heart, replaced by some cold stone, so heavy and unfit that the cavity in his chest that it aches all the more for its presence.

 

And it is of his own choosing, to spare her this path.

 

The costs are too high, not fit for the one he called friend, comrade, love.

 

_Ma Vhenan._

 

He left her behind for that reason, had chosen to cast them both adrift precisely for that cause.

 

The right cause.

 

_His_ cause.

 

It had not been bravery, but desperation that had fueled his actions. He had promised her that last time, in the grove as she wept, that he would speak with her when all was finished.

 

But she had suspected, rightly because she was his heart, that he would not be brave enough to see it through. And so she had said goodbye to him in her own way, leaving a piece of herself for him find.

 

A corded knot, two strings bound together until it was impossible to see where one began and the other ended. Beautiful, circular, is was eternal, unending even in the face of his questioning gaze, his inquisitive touch.

 

Tracing it with his thumb as he follows its woven path, he tries not to draw comparison between the token he holds in his hand and the woman who had given it to him.

 

It is an impossible feat, one he fails all too regularly.

 

Striving for introspection, seeking out the balance that he had once found so easily in the ruins of ancient Arlathan, he turned his gaze up to the canopy and emerald green.

 

It was less beautiful to him than it had once been, diminished by some unseen force that Solas refused to name. Did not dare define.

 

He had meant to throw it away, the knot. The first time he had seen it, the reaction had been so instinctual that even now he wondered at what had stayed his hand.

 

Guilt perhaps.

 

Maybe longing.

 

The reason no longer mattered, not really. The result was the same.

For all of his...their...heartache, the path was clear.

 

He would never rid himself of her token, just as he could never return to her side.

 

Lover's Knot.

 

Sacrificed to do what is right.


End file.
